


Canst Thou Minister to a Mind Diseased

by Dillian



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Gen, Insanity, Loki's iron suit, M/M, Nick Fury's super pissed-off attitude, SHIELD, Solitary Confinement, Suicide Attempt, Tony's tech, brother-love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dillian/pseuds/Dillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Avengers:  All Nick Fury wants is a secure location where he can keep Thor's brother, after he's become temporarily (?) insane in SHIELD custody.  When he taps Tony Stark for the job though, he gets more than he's bargained for.  And so does Tony.</p>
<p>What happens after you've defeated and totally broken a demigod?  It's not that he isn't going to bounce back, but what's he going to bounce back into?  And who will get hurt by the impact?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. SHIELD detention facility, Mojave, CA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Nick Fury makes things worse instead of better.

**I do not own Marvel's The Avengers. Please consider this only the most loving of tributes.**

“Super-max confinement... Appropriate... A threat of that magnitude...” To tell the truth, Tony's only catching one word out of every three. He stopped listening after the first part: “We've got Thor's brother, and we need your help.”

“Lines of communication... blah blah ...The prisoner is not responding as we'd projected.”

“Super-max.” Damn, but Fury's gotten good at bureaucratese since he joined SHIELD. He's got to cut in or this will go on all day. “You mean you've got him in solitary?”

“Standard with intractable prisoners, Tony. I've shown you the research.”

In other words, yes. “How long?”

“SHIELD agents picked him up June the seventh.” Three months. Tony's seen the research, thank you very much. A sane man can usually last about a month before his mind starts to fragment, and Thor's brother was never any paragon of sanity.

“You know several human rights organizations have condemned solitary confinement as a form of torture?” 

“I know Loki tortured plenty of people himself. And killed them. He unleashed a goddamn alien invasion for chrissake, and you're going to sit there and tell me we're being too hard on him? When did you get so squeamish?” Fury takes a deep breath. “SHIELD needs your help. – I need your help, Tony. We thought we'd be getting through to him by now.” There's a pause. “Frankly he's just getting further away.”

 

\--------------------

SHIELD's super-max facility is located in the hills east of Bakersfield. It's quiet, it's peaceful. – It's remote as hell, because no one would want to live here, baked by the cruel sun in the summer, and lashed by cold winds (but never any snow, god forbid something as interesting as snow should happen _here_ ) in the winter. It's also just a couple hour's flight from Malibu, and that counts the time in traffic getting to the airport.

Tony heads out as soon as he gets off the phone. He hasn't talked much to Thor since they resolved the problem with the Chitauri. He knows he took his brother back to Asgard. He heard there was some kind of punishment there: Banished to earth, he thinks it was. Deprived of his powers. Apparently SHIELD was looking for him when he got here, so they could punish him themselves as well.

It's one of the good days in the Mojave mountains, the wind only slightly above 40 miles an hour, the temperature hovering just around 110. Inside the SHIELD facility, it's cold as ice. , and quiet as hell. Fury takes him down three flights of stairs, along a corridor in a cell block that looks completely empty.

“Slow day at the office?” Tony cracks wise in a voice that echoes off the barred doors, and the empty cells behind.

“It's not a much used facility.” To the end of the first corridor, take a left and then down another one. “The one in Virginia is busier.” Another left-turn. They're going to be in Nevada at this rate, before they get to Loki. “To tell you the truth, we thought he'd be more of a threat than he's been.”

“He's lost his powers.”

“Yeah, well that would explain it.” 

They take one more corridor, then stop at the end-cell, and ...And nothing would explain this, Tony thinks, as he peers through the barred door at the shit-smeared walls and the bowed figure on the bed.

“That's him?”

Fury nods, but Tony still can't make himself believe it. This is Thor's brother? The trickster-god with the horned helmet and the scepter with the blue gem in it? He must have made some kind of a sound in his surprise, because the figure on the bed looks up. Dull green eyes stare his way, but there's no recognition in them, no change in the blank expression on his face.

“The psychiatrists say it's some kind of depression.” As he speaks, Fury is unlocking the door to Loki's cell. He steps back for Tony, who has to nerve himself to go through the door. “They gave him some stuff for it but ...apparently his physiology isn't enough like ours for it to work. He stopped moving a couple of weeks ago. Then last week he stopped eating. The guards say he hasn't even drank anything for two days now.”

Loki's cell is dim, close, almost unbearable to be in, even for the few minutes they've been here. It's not just the smell in here, Tony thinks, it's more than that. Something about the close walls and the low ceiling maybe, or the waves of hopelessness coming off the man on the bed.

“Dammit, Tony.” Fury's voice breaks in on thoughts he didn't much want to think anyway. “I'm admitting we were wrong here, okay? The solitary didn't work. It's time to try something different.

Different? Like handing him over to the guy who's had his own issues with depression for years? What's this supposed to be, like the blind leading the blind?

“I'm begging you, Tony, as a friend. You're the only guy I know who's even got a chance of fixing him. If he's too much for you, you have the money to hire as many flunkies as you need. And if he does try to escape, your AI will have the place locked down before he gets to the door.”

“What if...” Tony swallows. He's not seriously thinking of doing this, is he? He's more fucking nuts than he thought. But, “what happens if I do fix him?” he says.

“Who knows. Maybe he becomes one of the good guys.” Fury laughs shortly, dismissing that one as the crazy idea it is. “If you manage it, then I can hold up my head in front of Thor,” he says. “I won't be the guy that broke his brother.”


	2. Stark Mansion, Malibu CA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Tony is not a miracle-worker.

**I do not own Marvel's The Avengers. Please consider this only the most loving of tributes.**

Days go by before Tony visits his new house-guest. When he does go, it's not by his choice. Loki was so vain before, about his authority and his superior power. Now he's got nothing, and it feels kind of cruel to look at him like this. But one of the guards he's hired to watch him stops Tony one day, as he's hurrying down the hallway from the main living area to his bedroom (and trying his best to avoid even looking at the room where Loki is doing who-knows-what, and in who-knows-what condition).

“You don't need to keep us on,” he says.

Without thinking, Tony glances toward Loki's door. 

“No.” The guard shakes his head. “I shouldn't say anything, because this is an easy job, now, but he's taking care of himself. He doesn't need us any more. He never does anything dangerous. He never tries to go anywhere. And don't you have some kind of state-of-the-art security system for if he did?”

“Son, my security system is _beyond_ state-of-the-art.” Tony looks at the door again. All he can think about is that first sight of Loki in his cell back in Mojave: The sight of it, the smell. What would he see if he opened this door now?

“You can go in,” the guard tells him. “It might be good for him if he saw someone he knows.”

“Oh I don't know him that well.” This banter is for one purpose and one purpose only: It saves Tony having to open the door and see Loki being not-Loki again. “He tried to kill me once.” But if he'd hoped the guard would take him up on that and continue the conversation, he's disappointed. He just shakes his head at what's obviously a joke, and continues toward the front door to go home.

Oh well, there's no way he can put this off forever. Tony opens the door. When the odor that comes out is air freshener and clean sheets, he breathes a sigh of relief. He looks in and sees Loki sitting on the bed. Loki looks like a drowned cat, but that's already a 100% improvement over how he looked when he got here. He's, swimming in one of the SHIELD-issue jumpsuits Fury sent over with him, probably because it looks like he's lost about 50 pounds since he and Tony first met.

“Tony Stark?” Loki looks up at him with eyes that at least show some recognition now, but, along with it, the same hopelessness as before. “Would you like to gloat now,” he says, “or shall I make an appointment for you to come back and do it later.”

“Gloat?” What he'd really like is a thank-you. It's not like he didn't save Loki out of some godforsaken SHIELD cell in the desert, or spent wads of cash nursing him back to health or anything. “I came to see how you are,” he says.

It's the perfect opening for a snotty comeback, and Loki, the Loki he remembers from before, was never one to miss an opportunity. Instead, he barely acknowledges that Tony's said anything, just nods, then looks down at his own knees. “You were right,” he says softly. “It was all on me. There was no throne, and the army wasn't very effective.” 

Tony swallows the temptation to tell his house-guest just how “effective” his army actually was. He's really fighting the temptation to feel sorry for him here. Loki's cleaned up all right, but he looks like he's been dragged through ten kinds of hell, and he's so skinny a good breath could knock him down. He tells himself this is the guy that killed Coulson. He's the guy that stole the Tesseract and bragged about unleashing the Chitauri. Even sitting here on the bed looking pathetic, it's not his friends he mourns, or the people he killed, it's just his lost power.

It's a losing battle though. Loki's green eyes meet his and he feels a twist in his chest. It's like looking into the eyes of a lost little kid. “What happens to me now?” he says.

“I don't know.” Tony thinks about Dr. Selvig. He thinks about Loki stabbing Thor. – Who does that? Who stabs their own brother? Then he looks down into green, hopeless eyes. “Nick just told me to fix you.” 

Loki doesn't answer. Silence stretches on. “Dammit,” Tony says. “It's up to you what happens, Loki. Can't you visualize a future where you're not someone's enemy?”

A bitter snort of a laugh. “I'd be a pretty pathetic enemy.” Looking down at his arm like it's a cheap suit, “my powers are gone, remember?” he says. “Your green monster could probably kill me with one blow now.”

Hulk. “Hulk's not here,” Tony says flatly. “No one's here. It's just you and me. And don't get any ideas about trying something,” he says. “If you so much as take a step near me, JARVIS will be on you like ugly on an ape.”

He looks back down at Loki, and he doesn't know why he bothered saying that. His guest hasn't even moved. “Of course.” He's barely audible. Only his lips moving show that he's talking. “I would not insult your hospitality.” It's not Loki. There's no snap of malice to the words, no show-offy double meaning to please his smug little ego. For the first time Tony starts to wonder whether he can fix Thor's brother.


	3. Guest Bedroom, Stark Mansion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Loki makes threats.

He's wondering it even more a week later, with a house-guest who never leaves his room. He's no trouble, no trouble at all. People have cats that are more trouble than Loki. They have cats that eat more too, and by that, take it to mean _lots_ more. Loki eats barely anything. Trays come back from his room and you can't see where there's food missing. He must be eating something, because he's still alive, but it's not visible, and he's still losing weight like a fat woman on Jenny Craig. He doesn't do anything, not even reading, which Thor said was one of his favorite hobbies. And he barely acknowledges Tony when he visits, not even to talk about his lost powers.

Naturally, it's at this point that Fury shows up. He arrives on his own, no SHIELD car, no entourage of security. “Tell me you've fixed him,” he says before he's even in the door. “Tell me I didn't give him to the wrong guy.”

Fixed him. Like he's a piece of malfunctioning tech. It doesn't occur to Tony that he didn't mind the phrasing when he talked to Fury in Mojave. What's changed about his attitude toward his pathetic little house-guest since then?

“Nick,” he says, “what the hell did you expect me to do.” They're going down the hall, and he opens the door to the guest room (Loki of course, does not look up).

Fury looks in. “He's clean now at any rate,” he says.

“Yeah. And Thor's going to be thrilled when he comes back and finds his brother a clean, dead corpse.”

Fury glances into the room again. “If you think about it, it's kind of an improvement this way.”

It's not, oh god it's not. – The thought goes through Tony's head, then right away the question, _“did I really just think that?_ ”

“Don't make this all on me, Tony.” Fury's words interrupt his thought process before he can get to the part where he might have to admit that he actually cares about the little megalomaniac.

He gives an exasperated sigh. “I don't know who's fault it is. Maybe the solitary did it, maybe that's just the last straw that broke the camel's back. He wasn't what you'd call sane when he was here before, was he? The point is, it doesn't matter. What matters is how we're going to get him back to normal.”

“Talk to him Tony,” Fury says. “That's what psychiatrists do, isn't it?” Yes, because so many people have mistaken Tony Stark for a psychiatrist over the years. “At least give it a try. Listen, if it doesn't work I'll send a SHIELD psychiatrist over and he can talk to him.”

“What am I supposed to talk to him about?”

\--------------------

That night he's in the guest bedroom (in his pajamas of all things). He's got a glassful of double-malt for courage, and he sets it down on the desk, then pulls out the chair and sits down. Loki's in his usual place on the bed, wearing one of the SHIELD-issue jumpsuits that would fit two of him now.

“You know my father never talked to me much,” Tony says.

He's expecting what he gets, which is silence, and a pair of green eyes that look at him with about as much interest as if he was a fly buzzing past.

“He was kind of a big guy around here,” he says. “Not big by the standards of your father, but...”

“Odin is not my father.” Loki's voice is rusty, unused-sounding.

Adopted, right. He'd forgotten about that. “My father was Laufey, King of the Jotuns,” Loki says. “They are a defeated people, conquered by the superior strength of the Aesir.” He looks at Tony, adding, “as I was conquered by yours.”

Tony lets out a breath. “You weren't conquered.” Only of course he was. “Listen,” he bursts out, “you couldn't expect us not to defend our home, could you?”

“I wouldn't know,” Loki says. “I never had a home.”

Depressing little fellow, isn't he? Tony reminds himself that he's _talking_ at any rate, that's got to be some kind of an improvement. 

“My real father abandoned me. Odin took me in because he hoped I would be of use to him. Shall I show you my true appearance, Tony Stark?” Loki puts his hand on Tony's arm. He looks into his eyes. Tony feels his stomach crawl as he sees his green eyes turn dull red. He looks down and sees that the hand on his arm is blue, a deep blue, and the color is crawling upward to cover his whole body.

“I can freeze you in a block of ice too,” Loki says. “Funny thing: Odin took my Aesir magic, but I still have my Jotun powers. He has no control over those.

Tony's mind just forms the word “JARVIS”. Apparently his lips do too, because Loki gives a short laugh. “I'm not going to use them on you, Tony Stark. You're the only person who's treated me decently since I've been here.”

Tony can't pull his eyes away. The blue's not a _bad_ color, he thinks, it's just ...not a skin color. And watching Banner turn green and Hulk up apparently hasn't done anything to prepare him.

“Shall I tell you how I learned my true parentage?” Slowly the blue fades and Tony's sitting with the Loki he's used to again. “I was a man grown,” he says, “fighting the Jotuns at my brother's orders. One of their warriors touched my arm. My flesh turned blue, where a normal Aesir's would have been frozen to the bone.” 

He smiles, a rather toothy smile, and a light comes into his eyes that Tony doesn't like very much. “You can imagine how I felt. I tried to destroy the entire race in a fit of unconscious denial.” A snort, “then Thor of all people stopped me.”

“Odin admitted the truth when I confronted him.” He spreads his hands. “I am a man without a home. My real father abandoned me. My adoptive father, when it came time to decide, chose his real son over me. I have a plan though, Tony Stark.” His smile widens.

“Let me guess, you're going to try to destroy the world.” Really, sometimes humor is the only way to defuse a creepy situation. And this one's getting exponentially creepier by the minute. “Again.”

“I'm going to die.” Loki grins, his eyes glittering out of a face that already looks like a death's head. “Odin's punishment was a gift in disguise. I'm mortal now. Eventually if I don't eat, this body will die. I will have a home, if only in Hel.”

“Yeah.” Tony swallows. He wishes he didn't believe him, but Loki looks nothing but serious. He moves to get up. “I'll be contacting your brother now.”

“No you won't.” Loki's eyes turn stony.

“JARVIS.”

“Don't be a fool, Tony Stark.” Loki frowns. “I gave my word, and I will not hurt you. But if Thor comes, he will not find me alive.”


	4. Stark Mansion, the following day.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor tries to help, and Tony _has an idea_.

...And so naturally Thor turns up the next day. He should have foreseen it, Tony thinks. The guy's a demigod. He comes when he sees a need, not when someone calls him. And who wouldn't see a need with their brother going around talking about suicide? 

He at least _tries_ to stop him outside the door though. “You're not going in.”

“My friend, I am going in.” Thor's hand on his chest is gentle, but Tony can feel all his power behind it. 

“If you've been listening, and I know you have been listening,” Tony says, “then you know Loki doesn't want to see you. You know what he said he'd do if you came here.”

“I know he is my brother.” A gentle push from Thor is all it takes. Tony falls back against an inconvenient potted plant next to the doorway. He hears Thor's footsteps echoing on the marble floor as he goes through the entry-hall

He follows, wondering what he's going to find. Death? Devastation? Wasn't there a supervillain in some book, who's secret lair was set to crumble into dust as soon as you turned the key to go in? He's still thinking of Loki with his powers of course though. He comes in, and he doesn't hear Thor lamenting over a dead brother, just a lot of shouting.

“Brother! Put that down! Dammit, Loki!”

Tony finds his guests (naturally) in the kitchen, where Loki has (of course) managed to get hold of the big butcher knife, even though he couldn't be bothered to learn where anything else was, the whole time since he's been here. To be precise, he finds Thor holding his brother's wrist down against the granite countertop, while Loki grasps fruitlessly at the knife, and snarls up at him like a cornered cat.

“Get off me, you clumsy oaf! – You stupid beast!” Loki struggles, pulling with one arm and pushing back against his brother's massive chest with the other. “Do you think your brute strength can stop me doing what I want?”

Thor's brute strength is doing a pretty good job of stopping him. Not for the first time, Tony finds himself feeling sorry for Loki, who's giant colossal ego just makes him feel it all the more when he's defeated.

“I saw what you were doing.” Thor looks like he could hold off a million Loki's. He's using maybe one one-thousandth of his strength, if that. He's not even breathing hard, it's Loki who's getting all red and sweaty. “You can't think that I'd let you, brother.”

“I was doing,” – Loki pulls, fruitlessly, and growls a little under his breath. -- “...I was _doing_ exactly what I told Tony Stark I'd do if he let you come here. He should have realized I meant what I said.”

“Do not fault Tony.”

Thor's grip must have slipped for a minute, because Loki gets his hand free. He lunges at his brother with the knife upraised. Only to have Thor stop him as easily as you'd stop a butterfly. “Put it down.” He squeezes Loki's hand until it comes open and the knife clatters to the floor.

“Do not fault Tony.” Thor holds his brother by both shoulders and looks at him, his blue eyes meeting Loki's angry green ones. “It was my choice to come here,” he says. “I knew you would not like it.”

“Beautiful diplomacy.” Loki spits it at him like it's an insult. “I suppose Odin's been giving you lessons? How to negotiate with anyone, from a Frost Giant to a traitor with a knife?” He snorts nasty laughter. “Only in this case they're one and the same thing?”

“You're not a traitor,” Thor says. “You're my brother, and I love you, and so do Father and Mother.”

“Yeah, I'm a traitor. I hope I started a war at any rate, a nice little mess for the All-Father to clean up.” Loki pulls. It doesn't make any difference to Thor's grip on him, but it makes his own feet, barely touching the ground to begin with, dance around in the air like a baby's.

It's as good a time as any for a genius-billionaire to step in and take control of the situation. “Everything all right in here?” Tony comes into the kitchen and gives them both the best smile he can manage. “No problems between brothers?”

Loki looks at him, positively debonair. – Or as debonair as anyone can get who's as skinny as he is now. “None at all,” he carols. “Everything is just fine.” He shoots a glare at Thor. “If you'll just tell this brute he's not wanted here? I've been mauled by enough mindless creatures for one lifetime.”

Thor gives Tony the sad, confused look your dog gets when he knows he's going to the vet. “My brother...”

“Your brother,” Tony cuts in, “is _fine_ , Thor. He's not going to do anything crazy.” He glares threat at Loki, who glares back, but doesn't dispute it. “He's a guest in my house, and if he doesn't want to see you, I wish you'd respect that.”

If he expected a thank-you from Loki – Hell, if he expected appreciation for that matter! – Tony's in for a disappointment. Freed of his brother's grip, his house-guest brushes the wrinkles out of his clothes. He tosses his head. “You can't expect respect from oafs like this,Tony Stark. Manners are a product of civilization, and really, he's not very civilized, is he?”

_Yeah, and you are, you crazy little shit?_ Tony's not the only one staring as Loki leaves the room. Thor's frankly gaping with his mouth open. “What's going to happen to my brother,” he asks.

It's official now: Everyone thinks he understands this stuff. Even if they're not from Earth, they think it. Tony takes a deep breath. “He'll be fine, big brother. He's a guest at my house. He can stay here as long as he wants. – I'll teach him to play Angry Birds.”

“He'll enjoy that.” Thor gives a shadow of his usual smile. “My brother has an affinity with birds.” His smile fades. “I want you to help him,” he says. “And I want you to contact me if he... Ahh, if anything goes wrong. I don't care if Father's banished him. I'll send Asgard's best healers here if he needs them.”

\--------------------

That night it's Loki that's in the pajamas (bunny-patterned, to be precise), and Tony brings enough Dewars for both of them.

“You'd better not do that again.”

Loki doesn't look at him. He raises his arm, the sleeve of his goofy pajamas falling down around his elbow, and studies it as if it's the most fascinating thing in the room. “Apparently mortals can bruise,” he says.

“We can bleed pretty well too, and you'd better fucking not do anything to find out how that looks.” –

Loki's still ignoring him. His skin turns that creepy blue of his and he studies an arm that's suddenly a lot longer. “Apparently the Jotun can too.” He raises his arm to show Tony the dark purple finger-marks that circle his wrist. “That clumsy oaf doesn't know his own strength.” 

“You mean your brother.”

Loki doesn't dignify that one with a response. “No more knives,” he says though. He takes the glass Tony's given him and sips. – He's so skinny you can practically see the Scotch go through his system. “Suppose we make a deal: I'll leave the cutlery alone, and you keep Thor Odinson from sniffing around and pretending he cares about me.”

Which he does of course. It kind of sticks out all over him. But never mind that for now. Psychiatrist-Stark is on the job. “I've got a deal for you,” he says. “What say you start eating again, and I'll make them all stay away. No Nick Fury, no Thor, no... – What's his name? – No All-Father. What's in Hel that you want so badly anyway, Loki? It's just a lot of dead people. Is it because you don't want to go back to Asgard? Why not stay in Midgard? – Hell, why not stay here? – Listen,” – He wasn't going to say the next part, but all of a sudden Psychiatrist-Stark is gone, because _he's got an idea_. “Forget about your powers. They don't matter here. Give me a month, Loki, and I'll make you a suit that can do everything you used to do.”

He thinks he's imagining it at first, when he sees the corners of Loki's mouth go up a little. He thinks it's some quirk of his alien Jotun form. Then he hears the warmth in his voice and he knows he's smiling. Bingo! Even in genius-mode, Psychiatrist-Stark can do the job. “So I can try to destroy the world again?” 

“Maybe you won't want to destroy this world,” Tony says. “Maybe you'll want to save at least part of it, the part with me and JARVIS in it at any rate.”

“Maybe.” Loki's blue skin fades back into his normal pallor. His red eyes turn green again. “That's quite a deal: I eat, and you make me a suit.” He smiles again. “You may have given me the incentive I wanted.”

Sweet! Fucking sweet! He totally fucking did this! “How about you start eating right now,” says cagey Psychiatrist-Stark.

Loki nods. “And afterward you start the suit.”

“Hell yeah!” Make that roast beef sandwiches with extra mayo for two, and coffee to wash it down. Nothing's better than a big snack at 11:00 PM except a marathon session in the workroom afterward. Loki's in there with him (still with a smear of mayonnaise on his lower lip), peering over his shoulder and watching. The coffee's steaming in the old Black And Decker drip machine he's had since college. If there's any faint whisper of doubt left in his mind, about the possible risks of handing a suit over to someone who started a war with the human race and has only gotten crazier since then, it's a faint one, and very far away. Better living through technology is a religion in his family. He wouldn't be a proper Stark if he questioned it.


	5. The Workroom, Stark Mansion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where things go south kinda quickly.

Loki ...is not a comfortable person to have in the workroom with you. Oh, that first night is okay, even kind of fun, considering the ego-thing of getting him to eat and then watching him get excited about something for a change. But after that, not so much. He hovers, is the problem. And he can't stop making comments. 

“That's binary.” He leans over Tony's shoulder to point at the screen.

_Uh duh, yeah. Good one, Captain Obvious._ Tony grits his teeth and tries to concentrate on his typing. 

No such luck with Loki around, who's silver tongue can't seem to stop for a minute. “How are you making the binary appear on that screen? And what connection does it have with _that_?” He points to the half-finished holo-prototype that hovers over Tony's VR table.

“I'm typing.” Tony bites off the words. “It's coding. And it tells the machine to make that.” He jerks his chin toward the prototype, then turns around with a glare. “Anything else you want to know?”

There is. Oh, it's sticking out all over him: He wants to know everything, and he's not going to be satisfied until he does. Which is why Tony puts off work on the new suit for a good day and a half, so he can walk Loki through the basics of computers. They start with Windows, then by lunchtime he's messing around in DOS, and before either of them is ready to go to bed for the night, Tony's digging up an old book on Basic and teaching a god how to program. There's not that many guys in the world who can say that they've ever done that.

It pays off though, because after that Loki's quiet in the workroom. He's still in there, but at least he's not annoying any more. He's got his computer, and Tony's got his. And before the week's out they've worked out an arrangement for sharing the VR table, because Loki's working on his own prototypes. Tony's got a whole file-folder full of rough drafts that he's discontinued for one reason or another. He gifts them on Loki, because hey, let him have his fun, and besides, he might come up with something useful.

Another week goes by and they're working side-by-side on the new suit.

“It's got to have holographic capacity.” Tap-tap-tap on the keyboard and Loki's sketched what he wants. Tony sees a dozen Loki-suits dancing across the VR table and, better than that, he sees how they can make it work. “That's a non-negotiable.” Loki taps some more. “Also I want to be able to shape-shift.”

“What, like an ape? Maybe a bear?”

“Like a bird.” Loki's fingers don't stop moving for a minute. “Or a wolf.” He taps, then looks at the prototype, then he taps some more.” His holo-projection is changing into a very large, man-sized raven, an immense, bipedal wolf. “Dammit!” He brings his fist down on the keyboard. “It's one of my signature abilities! Why can't I make it fucking work?”

And so it's time for another instructive lesson on the differences between technology and magic? Only not fucking likely! Technology _is_ magic, it's the _best_ kind of magic, and Tony and his new assistant take the time to make the suit do everything on Loki's wish-list. When they're done, it can cloak itself in the illusion of everything from a pussycat to King Kong, it can surround an attacker with a dozen dancing Loki's, and it's finished in a nice shade of blue, the exact color of Loki's Jotun-skin.

“This is beautiful.” Suited up, Loki runs his fingers along the smooth metal of his own new casing. He can't see his face with the helmet in the way of course, but Tony hears the pleasure in his voice. “It's better than I'd dared hope. Look!” Loki turns and incinerates a harmless coffee mug that was sitting on the desk.

“Can you lay off the destruction?”

“Watch!” He picks up an office-chair and tears it into a pile of scrap metal.

“JARVIS doesn't like sending the Roomba out unscheduled.”

Loki smooths his own metal arms again and laughs softly. “Oh, I can't wait until my brother sees this.”

Yeah, he's getting a little manic about this. Time to tone things back down to normal.

“And Odin.” Loki lifts his arm and incinerates a telephone. Bits of scrap metal and casing bang off the walls and shower all around them. “He's going to be so _surprised_.”

He turns. “Tony, isn't your friend with the eye-patch due back for another visit soon?”

“What, Fury?” Tony touches the bracelet on his own wrist. He wonders how fast JARVIS can get him suited up when this situation spirals the rest of the way out of control. “Certain people said they didn't want to see him,” he says. “I told him to stay away.”

“Oh, do invite him back.” Loki sounds positively gleeful. “I'd like a chance to thank him,” he purrs, “for his wonderful hospitality right after I arrived.”

Yeah. _You are not killing my friend, you fucking little lunatic. A man makes one mistake and..._ “I didn't make you this suit so you could hurt people, Loki.”

“You didn't make the suit, Tony.” Now he can hear a frown come into Loki's voice. “We made it. I'll use it as I choose.”

“And don't think about dismantling it,” he says as he turns to leave. “You've taught me all the skills I need to make it work again.”


	6. First, the Stark Mansion, and then back at the SHIELD detention facility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Nick Fury reads Loki his Miranda Rights

“A known criminal, a psychopathic killer, and you just let him loose?” 

This time Fury shows up in full SHIELD-mode, with helicopters, and armored vehicles, and enough men to take down an entire army. He looks more pissed-off than Tony's ever seen him, and not just at Loki this time, but Tony just feels relief that he's there For once he's discovered a situation that's beyond Tony Stark's ability to handle.

“Not just that. -- That I could understand, Tony. You've always been kind of a loose cannon. -- But _you gave him tech_?”

“He's changed.” Pointless words. Loki has _not_ changed. He's off somewhere right now being _not-changed_ all over somebody's ass, probably. “I thought he'd changed,” Tony revises his words.

“I knew I was taking a chance.” Fury paces. His hands in their black gloves grip and open, grip and open. “I knew what kind of an unreliable guy you can be. But _no_ , I said to myself, _no_ : He's different. He's learned to be a team player. He's finally gotten some sense.”

“Thank you for proving me wrong.” He spit the words into Tony's face. “You have created the SNAFU to end all SNAFUs. You've fucked up beyond the history of fucking up. There's a psychopathic killer loose in the country, _again_ , and because of you, he's got superpowers. _Again_.”

“So you're here to read me the riot act and then we go get Loki together.” Tony's lips are stiff. He knows what Fury's answer is going to be before he says it.

“So I'm here to arrest you, Tony.” Fury's voice is gentle. What's more, it's sad. If there's anything that will make Tony feel worse than he already does, it's the sadness in his voice.

“Fine.” For his first act as an arrested person, Tony slips the bracelet off his wrist and hands it to Fury. “I deserve this,” he says.

“Deserve?” The icy voice coming from behind them is Loki's. Tony looks over Fury's shoulder to see him entering the room, still wearing his new Jotun-blue armor. “Who was it you were saying deserved what?”

He holds out his hand so they can see the little listening-device cupped inside. “Interesting the way you mortals use technology,” he says. “There really is a machine to replicate everything a spell-caster would do back in Asgard. These devices are so _small_ , and you can put them anywhere.” Crossing the room, he retrieves one from underneath the sofa.

Tony stares. “What the fuck! JARVIS is supposed to tell me if...”

“Funny thing about your JARVIS,” Loki murmurs. “It's got a personality, so you forget, but it's really just a machine. You've taught me a lot about how to use machines, Tony.”

A lot that's going to end in his and Fury's death. – No, scratch that: Loki's the one that's going to die. – Those SHIELD guys don't fuck around. – His house is probably going to be destroyed too, but oh well. It was good while it lasted. ...And then he's going to be arrested.

“I asked you once before, Nick Fury.” Loki's voice is disturbingly gentle. It's the only thing gentle about him right now. “ _Who_ deserves what? And why?”

“You were the one that bugged the living room, Loki. You tell me.”

“Why are you arresting Tony?” Loki takes huge steps toward Fury as he fires off the questions. This situation is going south fast. Unthinking, Tony grabs for the bracelet on his wrist. Only to remember he just gave it to Fury. Fuck.

Loki's got Fury cornered next to a side table. “I could kill you, you know,” he says. “One blast from this new 'tech' Tony made me... – Not even a blast. I've got all my old strength back with this thing.”

Give Fury credit: It's not everyone who can stare down a superpowered cyborg intent on killing him, but he manages. ...Although Tony wouldn't want to take a guess about the state of his underpants right now. “Yes, Loki, you can,” he says. “And then my second-in-command would still arrest Tony.”

Loki looks at him.

“He broke the law,” Fury says. “Giving aid to a known criminal is a felony.”

Loki takes a step back. “He did it to help me.”

“He's a big boy. He knew the consequences.”

Loki's blue-steel hands are at his side. His blue-steel head is tilted. If there was ever a superpowered cyborg who was expressing confusion, he's the one. Tony hears the whirr of Loki beginning to speak once, then twice.

Then there's a huff. “ _Fine_.” A click, a snapping sound, the pieces of the suit compact back into each other and it falls away in handy storage-form. It hits the floor with a crash and breaks into several pieces.

“Tony doesn't deserve to be arrested for what I did.” Loki – Loki! – holds his arms out, wrists together. He glances meaningly at the handcuffs on Fury's belt. “If you want to arrest someone, you may have me. It's my crime. I deserve to pay for it.”

Fury looks at Tony. Tony looks back at him. Is this the moment when the head of SHIELD is going to show some leniency for once? Then Fury snaps the cuffs onto Loki's wrists.

“Loki Odinson” – 

“Laufeyson,” Loki breaks in. 

– “ _Whatever_. Loki Laufeyson, you are under arrest for the murder of Phillip Coulson” –

It would be Coulson, Tony thinks. Of all the things Loki's done, killing a SHIELD man is the one that would burn Fury the worst.

– You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Loki Laufeyson, do you understand these rights?”

A small nod. Loki stands in front of Fury submissive, his head bowed, his arms held loosely in front of him. Two guards take his shoulders, but you can see it's not necessary. He's ready to go without any coercion. And then Tony sees the terror of Manhattan, the scourge of Earth's Mightiest Heroes, being led out his front door. He hears the sound of cars starting in the driveway.

Loki's being taken back to that hellhole in Mojave, he thinks. Jesus Christ on a crutch, what's going to happen to him now?

\--------------------

“You got your powers back, didn't you?”

Who wins the prize for pointing out the obvious today? Why, it's Tony Stark! And look what our lucky winner gets:  It's a SHIELD cell! Only it looks more like a mansion! And who's that sitting here on the gold-patterned sofa? Why it's Loki Laufeyson! “Really?” he deadpans. “What gave it away?”

Tony grins. He ignores Loki's green suit with the high collar and the gold chain around the neck. He doesn't mention the bottle of wine sitting handy on the table, or the plate of gorgonzola and pears. “I know my tech,” he says. “That suit of yours wouldn't break just because you dropped it on the ground.”

Loki gives him a cat's smile. “You're telling me I let myself be taken here, locked away in durance vile,” – “ _Durance vile_ ” in this case, Tony notes, includes floor-to-ceiling green velvet curtains and an alcove with a five-piece string ensemble. – “closed away in this Midgardian excuse for a Bastille, when I didn't have to? Why would I do that?”

“You tell me.” Without asking, Tony pours a glass of the wine and sips. It's a very nice Cabernet Sauvignon. He nibbles a piece of gorgonzola. “Maybe you felt guilty?”

“Nonsense.” Loki's tone doesn't change, but Tony could swear he sees his lips go up a little more. “Psychopathic killers don't feel guilty.”

“You did it, didn't you?” Tony says. “You pleased the All-Father, so he gave you your powers back. Was it because you gave yourself up like you did?”

“Please.”  Loki takes a wedge of pear.  He adds a slice of cheese on top and takes a bite.  “Who knows why that old fool does anything?” 

Tony looks at him. “Fury doesn't know. He thinks you're crazy like the last time.”

“I know.” Loki stretches lazily against the plush upholstery of the sofa, looking very pleased with himself. “He's scared to come down here and check.” 

“But why, Loki? Why not just go home when your powers came back?”

 

Loki's eyes darken. All of a sudden the smugness looks like a facade. “Home? You mean back to Asgard so I can piss off the All-Father and start this whole thing over again?”

“I mean back to somewhere you care about.” Tony pours himself some more wine. He doesn't look at Loki. “Somewhere that needs protecting.”  
When there's no answer, he continues. “You're not going to leave me and JARVIS alone, are you? With all the psychopathic killers around the house?”

The silence stretches out. He's just about ready to just say good-bye and go. Then, from the sofa, “Tony Stark, you really do think you've reformed me, don't you?” When he looks up at Loki, Tony sees a face that looks almost ...happy.


End file.
